Posts

Walking the dog

Image
  When I was a moody teenager I would often drag my dog, Laddie, on long walks with me to the 'posher' areas of Wolverhampton. We would walk along the Dudley Road to Fighting Cocks and then down Goldthorn Hill towards Penn where there were a lot of detached houses that seemed worlds away from my little terraced house. In this photo we have just returned and I am wearing a blue shiny coat which I thought was the height of fashion! Laddie is worn out! Marion and Bonzo walk the same route in this extract: “Come on Bonzo!” Marion looks round. She is a long way from home. The houses are big. There are shiny cars in the drives. She’s hot. Bonzo stares with sorrowful eyes. His tongue is out and he’s panting. “Are you tired? Okay we can have a rest for a few minutes. Maybe someone will drive past and rescue me. My real father will recognise me. He’ll take me into one of these houses. My real mother will cry when she sees me. They’ll have loads of money. A lovely little old lady with si...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Waiting Room

  Here's a flash fiction story I wrote for my writing class a few months ago. I've spent too many hours in doctor's and hospital waiting rooms. The waiting room at the Liverpool Cancer hospital is bright and airy -it's actually not a room - but still daunting when you're waiting for a result. I didn't have to wait long! My scan was clear! No new cancer! Out of the waiting room and into the living room for another six months! The Waiting Room Bieber huddled next to the leaflet rack in the waiting room is watching the clock. Two minutes since his mum went in. He glances at the leaflets: ‘Look after you Heart’, ‘Healthy Minds’, ‘Cannabis in Pregnancy’- perhaps that’s why his teachers say he’s a bit slow. Bieber doesn’t think he is – he knows and sees a lot more than the grown-ups think - but he doesn’t mind: ‘being slow’ keeps him safe from questions. Three minutes. Not long until his mother’s screechy voice will be heard yelling at the doctor. She’ll demand mo...
Post a Comment
Read more

Writing Becoming Maz-My diversion therapy

Image
   I wrote my novel during the pandemic while I was having chemotherapy for Ovarian Cancer. It was a great diversion. I've had one recurrence last year and praying I'm not having another one now!  So here I am trying to stay calm and not think about this afternoon when I see my consultant oncologist for the results of my recent CT scan. Like Marion in the novel and most people I suspect, I have spent a lot of my life thinking about the future, often going down the pessimistic route: 'What if I can't get a new job?' 'What if I never meet the love of my life?' 'What if my child has an accident?', but sometimes trying the optimistic route: 'What if I win the lottery?' 'What if my book does get published?' I would then try to plan for different outcomes for the pessimistic scenarios, imagining how I would cope with situations that hadn't happened yet and mostly never did. Someone once said, 'Worrying does not take away tomor...
Post a Comment
Read more
Image
  Maz in Wolverhampton My novel is a work of fiction and I am not Marion however I did draw on a lot of my memories for the descriptions. I first lived in a two bedroomed house in Wolverhampton close to the railway line. I don't think we had much money but  we were happy there. The neighbours were friendly and there was a lot of gossiping in the shared entry at the back. My mother told me I fell down the step in the yard although I have no recollection of doing so. I do remember my father repairing his bike punctures, buying me a huge teddy and taking me to a nearby park where we could hear the trains hooting and see the steam spiralling into the sky.                                                         1.                              ...
Post a Comment
Read more
  Another Extract On Marion’s birthday Susan and Gary are invited round for tea. Marion watches them munching the sandwiches and cramming the little cakes into their mouths, leaving streaks of jam and bits of egg on their chins and cheeks. Seeing her mother’s anxious look, she eats a banana sandwich and is rewarded with a smile. Then the curtains are drawn and the lights switched off. A beautiful round cake covered in white icing and decorated with pink flowers with three lighted candles is carried in. Marion claps her hands in delight. As everyone sings ‘Happy Birthday’ she looks at the little flames. Inside the middle flame she can see a little girl with blond curls and a big smile. She’s whispering, You’re three now. You can be happy . It’s time! Marion feels very warm and her whole face smiles. “Blow out the candles!” urges Doris. Marion blows out each one separately. The little girl has gone from the flame, but Marion knows she is nearby somewhere. Later when they are ...
Post a Comment
Read more
 Extract from my novel  Becoming Maz Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about un-becoming everything that really isn’t you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place. Paulo Coelho Chapter 1: Becoming Marion She is waiting to become Marion. She is changing rapidly. Memory of the light before dimming.   All she knows now is warmth and this darkening space. She blinks. She stretches. She kicks. She yawns. She floats. She smiles. A soft voice lulls her. Harsher sounds disturb her. A change is coming. Soon it will be time to become. For now, she is dependent on Doris. Doris has been waiting for seven long years. She knows this child is a girl. She will be Marion, ‘wished for child’. She will love Marion and Marion will love her. Marion will keep Joe in England, in Wolverhampton. She will be his pride and joy. He will want the best for her: a good education so she can be a doctor or a teacher. She won’t walk to school baref...
Post a Comment
Read more

Introduction

Image
  Becoming Do we ever become our true self? Do we want to? Does it even exist? Most of us spend our lives taking on many different roles and labels, often striving to find the one that brings the most fulfilment and happiness. We may also reject roles that are thrust upon ourselves which can become a role in itself. Looking back on my life, a privilege and a recognised trait of the ‘old person’ role, I can identify roles and labels I have embraced. These include: ·          The ‘good child’ ·          The ‘clever daughter’: a role that was very hard to live up to and also difficult to let go of ·          A ’diligent’ pupil: a common comment on my school reports ·          A brilliant teacher: a role I truly loved and still do but I have often had to fight the need to be perfect which once threatened to destroy m...
Post a Comment
Location: United Kingdom
Read more